


Night and Day (you are the one)

by maiNuoire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: But only really briefly, Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Inferred depression and anxiety, M/M, Sexual Content, it's mostly fluff, not explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 07:22:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5448080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maiNuoire/pseuds/maiNuoire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has a hard time sleeping sometimes, and mornings are tough for Stiles. Together, they get through the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night and Day (you are the one)

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Michele (and me) and anyone reading Substitutions and Additions (or other angsty fics) that just wants to wrap the boys up in blankets, and give them cocoa, and tell them it's ok (and have it actually be ok.)
> 
> There is implied mental health issues, but they aren't named or described in any particular detail, but people like a heads up about these things, so there it is.
> 
> Enjoy! (And please let me know what you think!)

Derek has trouble sleeping. Too many years of bad dreams and restless nights trapped with worse memories. It's easier now, with Stiles beside him, but some nights are hard.

  


So after a particularly bad day, or when Derek's skin doesn't feel like it fits properly, and he knows sleep will be nearly impossible, Stiles takes care of him.

  


Derek's not quite sure how Stiles always knows when he needs the extra affection, he doesn't always know how to ask for it, but Stiles somehow just knows. He will help Derek undress, caressing his skin and dropping soft kisses over the newly revealed skin. He'll draw a warm bath and slip in behind him, or turn the shower on and climb in, opening his arms to invite Derek into his embrace in the steamy fall of water, then dry him off with patience and reverence and wrap him in a fluffy oversized towel and lead him to their bed. Stiles will sit, legs splayed wide in his towel and pat the open space between his legs, massaging Derek's shoulders when he sits there, then wrapping his long warm arms around Derek's chest and resting his chin on Derek's shoulder, softly babbling about nothing of importance, his voice a warm, familiar distraction.

  


He'll press a kiss to Derek's neck, roll away from him and turn back the covers, lie on his side with one arm under Derek's pillow and murmur “Come to bed, sweetheart,” and Derek will climb into bed and burrow into Stiles’ offered warmth while Stiles pulls the blankets over them.

  


Stiles will sweep his hand over Derek's back, up and down his arms. He'll scratch gently through Derek's hair and whisper _I love you_ and hold him close.

  


On nights when he's particularly restless, Stiles will kiss him breathless. Suck and lick and bite gently at his mouth until hips grow restless and their hardened lengths are grinding and throbbing against one another. Then Stiles will take them in one of his long fingered hands, or into his talented mouth, or into the hot grip of his body. Sometimes he will slide down between Derek's legs and use his tongue and his fingers to take Derek apart and put him back together with endearments and kisses, or he will slide into Derek with agonizing gentleness and rock into him until they're both sweaty and sated.

  


After, they will curl up against each other, hearts and breathing settling into a normal rhythm, bodies twined together, and Stiles will run soothing hands over his cooling skin and kiss his forehead and say “I've got you, Der,” as he cradles him close, and Derek will feel all his pieces slot into the right places and sigh contentedly, and sleep until morning.

  


\----------  

  


Stiles hates mornings. Most days, it's the standard not-a-morning-person level of disdain for the hours before noon, but some days mornings are Hell.

  


Some mornings, his brain is too loud, and his thoughts are too fast; just a loud, constant buzz, itching at the back of his head. His limbs don't feel like they're his and he just feels anxious and a little like crying.

  


Sometimes, he can't clear the fog of sleep away, and the thought of waking up is pretty much torture, and even trying is like fighting through mud and molasses, and it's overwhelming.

  


Derek brings him coffee and kisses and patient encouragement on regular morning loathing days, and somehow he always knows when Stiles needs something extra.

  


On anxious days, Derek wraps his arms around him and holds him close, kissing the back of Stiles’ head, his cheek, his shoulder, wherever he can reach and tell stories or make plans for their future. He'll lace their fingers together and squeeze, giving Stiles an anchor to focus on. When Stiles feels less like he's flying apart, Derek helps him up and guides him to the shower. He washes Stiles’ hair with gentle, sure fingers and soaps his pale, freckled skin, and if his ministrations lead to slow making out and increasingly awakening flesh, Derek will stroke him with unhurried motions, or drop to his knees and take Stiles in his mouth and suck gently and eagerly until he has a taste of him in his throat.

  


Derek will towel him off and bundle him back to the bedroom, settle him on the end of their bed and help him decide what to wear. Sometimes Stiles _needs_ to feel Derek against him, or inside him, or above him, and sartorial decisions are delayed. Once dressed, Derek will make breakfast and insist on food groups being involved. He'll stay close and there's a steady stream of lingering touches, reassuring caresses and quick, fond kisses.

  


On days where Stiles is lost in the fog of his own mind, Derek will maneuver them so they face each other and tangle their legs together. He'll cradle Stiles' face and stroke his thumb along his jawline and cheek, rain kisses over his face and look Stiles in the eye lovingly, a soft smile on his face inviting Stiles to greet the day.

  


Eventually, Stiles will catch Derek's lips as they skim past his own and then they'll kiss, slow and grateful giving way to firmer, insistent sweeps of tongue and the occasional teasing bites. Derek will straddle Stiles’ hips, moving them against one another in a steady but not hurried rhythm, they'll wind fingers through hair and trail fingertips over passion warm skin, and Derek will pour all of his love into every kiss. He will whisper “Good morning, love,” while he kisses down Stiles’ torso and, cheekily, “I'm glad you're up,” while he traces a finger down the length of Stiles’ cock.

  


Derek will ask what he needs while he rubs tiny circles into Stiles’ hip with his thumbs, and gently rolls his pelvis into the cradle of Stiles’ legs, and Stiles will answer “Just this,” or “I need you inside me,” or “wanna feel you,” or any number of things, and Derek will kiss him sweetly and give him just that. His hands and his lips and his held gaze and his words telling Stiles that he's not alone.

  


After, they'll shower; washing each other and kissing, wrapped up in each other under the warm spray. They'll get dressed and cook together, trading smiles and touches and stealing kisses, and Stiles will face the day with a grin, and come home to Derek, and know all is right in the world they've built together.

  
  
  



End file.
